


crying, give me some love

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, POV Second Person, Self-Harm, Suicide, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:30:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You love life so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crying, give me some love

 

i.

 

If there’s one thing you love the most in this world, it’s your family.

You don’t know anything about mum other than that apparently she got very, very ill when you were tiny. Dad doesn’t want you asking about her, and Sans doesn’t remember.

It’s just the three of you, Sans and you and daddy, and that’s enough, really. You do all these nice family things and it’s so safe at home; what more could you ask for?

And if dad says that having you and Sans was a mistake, well, that’s just him being a little grumpy. After all, everyone has those days from time to time, don’t they.

You certainly have, at least. You get sad sometimes. But luckily you have the best big brother ever who always knows what to do. Sans pets your skull, tells you that you’re very brave (that dad doesn’t mean anything he says, not really), and then you will play games together. It’s so fun, it helps you forget some things for a little while.

And when you’re _really_ sad, when you can hear the shouting through the door, you just have to clamp your hands over your ears and focus on nice thoughts.

But, mostly you’re just happy, honestly.

Happy, happy, happy.

Of course Sans is very happy as well, maybe even more than you. In fact, he is so happy that he keeps chipping at his own bones.

(You know this because you’ve seen them, the marks all over his arm; he was making you hot chocolate because you asked him to, and he reached up to get a mug from the cupboard - you’re still too short to do that yourself -, the sleeve of his shirt sliding down. You pointed them out  _\- ”Wowie, are you trying to draw there?” -,_ and it hasn’t happened again.)

Then there are days where your tooth gets knocked out of your mouth, or you break your wrist _(”I fell off a tree. No, I just walked into a door. Silly me. I was practising my bone attacks. Yeah, I’m so clumsy,”)_ and Sans lets you sleep in his bed with him. He even reads _two_ stories to you, because he’s such a good big brother.

(You like to think nothing will happen if you just ask nicely _\- “Daddy, please don’t hit me, I’ll be good, I promise, I promise, I promise, I’m sorry,” -_ but that hasn’t worked so far.)

Everything is just so great.

You love life so much.

 

* * *

 

ii.

 

Dad dies (fell into his own creation, they say, what a tragic accident), and the house grows quiet. A part of you expects to wake up to loud arguing in the living room, or to feel a hand hard against your cheek when you spill milk on the carpet, but it never comes.

Sans is sitting on the couch. The television is on, but he isn’t looking at it; he isn’t really looking at anything. He’s just staring silently, with slumped shoulders and dark eye sockets. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

You ask him if he misses dad sometimes, and he gets so _angry_ that you decide it’s the last time you ever mention dad again.

(Your brother is nothing like _him,_ so Sans comes into your room later, says that he’s sorry for shouting at you like that. You forgive him.)

The thing is, he doesn’t become _distant_ , exactly. He’s still there for you if you really need him, like he’s always been. It’s just that he starts to forget things, like reading to you when you go to bed, or even coming and saying good night. Sometimes he doesn’t make dinner because he’s so tired, and you rarely play anymore.

He mostly stays in his room, lying in bed and sleeping his life away unless you go in and tell him that he needs to eat something, or that he has to wash up.

How can someone be so _lazy,_ you can’t believe you’re related.

Because that’s what it is, laziness.

And you, well, you feel very distressed every now and then, so - and this is a secret - you bang your head against the wall, hoping that your skull will crack open. But again, this is a huge secret; you would never mention it to anyone, especially not to Sans. _Never_ to Sans.

It’s only because of all the school work, though, honestly, nothing else, you swear.

(Things keep changing and you don’t know how to stop it.)

There is nothing wrong with you or your brother.

(You sit beside him on the bed, wring your hands. ”Sans.” No response. ”Can you make me hot chocolate? I really want some.”

It’s not that you still can’t reach the cupboard; you just wish he would do something.)

 

* * *

 

iii.

 

One day, Sans stops waking up altogether, and you _accidentally_ make the blaster aim towards you without getting out of the way in time.

Silly you.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i think i should make clear, just in case, that nothing what happens in this is healthy or acceptable


End file.
